


The Undisclosed Desires of Your Heart

by forever_nerd



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Wings, Chloe KNOWS, Chloe is naughty, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Problems, Mid-season 3, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Protective devil, Sexual Content, Smut, Some Fluff, masturbation(sort of?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forever_nerd/pseuds/forever_nerd
Summary: After a successful case and too many celebratory drinks a (somewhat) drunk Chloe challenges Lucifer to prove his sexual prowess.And Lucifer is not one to step away from a challenge. Or a bet.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 109
Kudos: 498





	1. Undisclosed desires of your heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepoisonofgod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepoisonofgod/gifts).



> Hey there.  
> This story came to life thanks to a prompt by the lovely @venividivictorious.  
> (chloe finally points out to lucifer that men who brag as much as he does about being good in bed usually turn out to be all talk and a bitterly disappointing lay. lucifer takes that as a challenge and proves that in his case, she's got that wrong.)  
> I hope you enjoy it dear.  
> Feedback is always welcome!

Chloe felt warm all over. She wasn’t a whiskey kind of girl but Lucifer pulled out a rather expensive looking bottle (after they had drank some champagne) that was smooth and burned in the loveliest of ways.

Here, with the warmth of his jacket on her shoulders and the sweet burn of the alcohol in her veins, she could feel her self-imposed walls crumbling.

Lucifer was not the man she _should_ want and he had hurt her one too many times; and Chloe, if nothing else, was a reasonable woman and knew well enough by now that this thing between them could never really work. Not really.

But here, in the semi darkness, and with his dark eyes focused solely on her, she could admit to herself that she wanted him still.

A little too much, maybe.

And the alcohol was making her braver, in a playful (or dangerous) sort of way.

They were sitting on the sofa, close enough that her folded knees were brushing the outside of his thigh, pulling at the finer details of the case, basically complimenting each other.

(They did not touch upon the fact that she almost got shot again, the bullet mere inches away from her temple. Lucifer had been too furious and Chloe too shocked; she remembered the way his hands were trembling when he touched her-the fleeting terror of that moment. But they were both pretending again now; something they were really good at.)

“Detective, cheers to you! I would have never thought to check the child’s diary!” he said and his praise wrapped around her, painting her cheeks a lovely red.

“Well, I have to admit that you were particularly good yourself. Very… efficient.”

“Oh, Detective! That was nothing, truly. Your desires, well not _yours_ specifically, but everyone else’s spill out almost effortlessly. A gift from dear old Dad. Nothing to be terribly proud of. Not like my _other_ skills. The self-taught ones. The ones I am _exceedingly_ good at. The ones you have not had the pleasure of knowing… _yet_.”

“Yet?” she asked, calling out his bravado. It had been a while since he was this forward. But damn her if she didn’t love it.

“Oh, Detective, a Devil can only hope! Maybe one day I will have the pleasure of… rendering you speechless.” He winked at her.

“Oh, Lucifer I’d be careful if I were you… Men who usually brag that much…”

“How _dare_ you Detective!” he said scandalized, standing a little straighter.

“They are usually… how to appropriately phrase that? All hammer and no… nail?” she said, eyes cutting quickly lower on his torso, eager to make him squirm.

The look he gave her screamed of self-righteous fury.

“ _All hammer and no nail_ ,” he repeated disbelieving, clearly offended, shaking his head slowly,

“Well I can’t really say about _you_ Lucifer. But, judging from previous experiences, I stand my ground.”

His eyes, dark and captivating, gleamed; a dangerous predator on the hunt. It made something tighten low in her belly.

“I would be very willing to shake your very ground Detective, were you not in an inebriated state,” he offered and lay back on the sofa, his smirk in place. Confident-too confident because he knew how this always went.

Because this would be the point to draw the line. To stop the teasing, the naughty banter, because that was what it was only going to be. But something felt different inside her tonight. Too much wanting and too much denying that she was sick of it.

Sick of always taking a step back. Of acting so reasonable. Of following her stupid head.

And she had almost been shot tonight. A few inches to the left and she wouldn’t be standing here.

So, tonight she was switching tactics. For what had her reason brought her so far but pain and heartache?

“Wow... Making excuses. Say no more Lucifer. I understand.”

“You... _understand_. What exactly is it that you understand Detective?”

“Well, you are afraid you won't perform. I mean you did polish off that champagne practically on your own. And you _have_ propositioned me numerous times- promising _the best night of my life_ ,” she says, making air quotes with her hands, her eyes taunting.

“It’s natural that you would be scared.”

“Scared,” he scoffed. “The Devil doesn't do scared dear. And I never lie. When I say that I can give you the best night of your life, I mean it,” he said affronted. “Are you up for a wager?” he asked, back to his overconfident, cocky self.

“Do tell,” she said, bringing the glass to her lips. She took a sip and ran her thumb over her lips, collecting the moisture and sucking it softly.

Her little show worked. His eyes were glued to her mouth and that thumb.

“Do you... do you desire me Chloe?” he asked, clearing his throat.

This was her last chance to retreat; draw back again, as she had other times.

But her mind was made up, for better or for worse.

And yes, of course she desired him. She just wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of coming clean.

“Well, I wouldn't go so far... But I _am_ curious.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingers caressing the line of her neck and said,

“You let me have my wicked way with you and if I deliver, you owe me.”

He was looking at her, trying to gauze her reaction, barely able to contain his excitement.

“And if I don't want to give you whatever you ask of me?”

“Then you won't,” he said easily, as if he made such allowances often.

“And if you don't deliver?”

“In that impossible scenario, you can ask me for anything you want.”

“Hardly fair for you Lucifer.”

“Oh, I don’t mind Detective. I always keep my end of a deal. But I won’t _force_ you.”

She tapped her fingers against her lips, pretending to think it over. He was looking at her like he couldn’t believe this was happening.  
  


And truly, what was the worst thing that could happen? Some awkwardness for a few days? More pining? All familiar territory for her.

She was done denying herself any longer. Possible consequences be damned.

And well...

Hell could freeze over for all she cared.

“Deal,” she said and extended her hand, her heart beating a staccato rhythm, be it from excitement or fear or just both.

Lucifer took her hand, the widest of smiles stretching on his lips, but instead of shaking it as expected, he pulled her to him with a sharp tug, their faces so close that their breaths mingled.

"It's a deal Detective," he murmured, his lips almost touching hers. She stared at him. He stared back.

She couldn't take this anymore.

She kissed him.  
  
Not softly or sweetly like that day at the beach. This was angry, filled with too much neglected want, all biting teeth and bruising lips. He didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he seemed to revel in it. His hands dug hungrily into the waist, pulling her closer.

"I was certain there was a fiery creature hiding under my straight-laced Detective", he whispered hoarsely, leaving open mouthed kisses on her skin and all she could focus on was that _my_ before the Detective. 

"Were you now?" she whispered, hoping to hide the tremble in her voice as his hands, warm and large, left burning trails on her still clothed skin.

"Oh yes. And you are even more glorious than I ever imagined. And I imagined _plenty_ Detective," he murmured on her cheek before kissing her.

She realized that up until now he was merely receiving her kisses, letting her lead. But now he was the one leading this dance between them and _my_ , could this man dance. His tongue twirled with hers, his lips sucking and pulling and she felt weak _everywhere_.  
  
Her fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons, unfastening some and ripping others. He shook it off and her hands blindly mapped the creamy expanse of his chest- her lips still held captive by his own. She wanted to see him; wanted to trace all those freckles-those miniscule constellations- with her lips and tongue.

His hands slipped under her shirt, his fingers spreading over her ribcage, and he pulled away slightly, his eyes searching hers, hesitant, doubting once more.

"Chloe, are you sure about this? I don’t want you to regret it," he whispered and all she could think of was that _dream_.

She pulled off her shirt quite gracefully, as she realized just how prophetic it had been.

Not even horns could have stopped her now.  
  
She wanted to tease him, to joke but his eyes seemed terribly vulnerable.

"I won't", she reassured him with a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

His expression changed instantly, becoming one of gleeful joy. He stood up and slung her over his shoulder.

"It's high time then I had my wicked way with you!"

Once on his bed, his fingers and eyes traced the outline of her black lacy bra.

"I really like this. Were you looking to seduce me tonight Detective?"

She couldn't help herself. She laughed.

"Um, no. Laundry day,” she admitted, the smile still on her lips.

"Now _that_ does seem more like you", he agreed, his eyes and smile bright.

Then he ducked down and started kissing a line from one collarbone to the other, his tongue dipping in the hollow between them. Then lower and lower while his hands snuck under her and unhooked her bra. He pulled the straps down slowly and pulled it off, his hands reverent on her skin.

And then he stood straighter to look.

He stared. And stared. Enough to make her uncomfortable.

"I’m sure they are not quite what you expected." It had been fifteen years (or more?) since that damn movie.

"You are absolutely right darling. They are far more gorgeous."

When he looked at her, there was wonder and hunger in his eyes; both foreign on his handsome face (it was always others that hungered for him) but oh, what a great look it was on him.

Then he descended again, his lips and tongue leaving fiery paths on her skin, round and round but never quite where she wanted them. She bit her lip, refusing to whine, and slipped her fingers in his dark locks, tugging softly but insistently to where she wanted him.

He chuckled but let himself be guided, tongue swirling around her nipple and sucking lightly, while she arched her back, aching to be closer to him, a willing sacrifice at the altar of his lips.

He moved on to the other, lavishing it with same attention. Once he was satisfied, his tongue left swirling patterns on her skin, dipping into her navel and licking a line along the edge of her jeans.

"I believe these need to go Detective," he said with a wolfish grin and slowly unfastened the button and drew the zipper down. He pulled her jeans off with abundant tenderness.

Her cotton black panties were not made to impress but still Lucifer ran his fingers along their outline, his thumb dipping under the elastic band. He bent down and ran his nose over her sex, and she could almost feel the vibration of his low groan in her very core.

"I believe I have found my deepest desire," he whispered on sensitive skin, his thumbs hooking in her panties and slowly dragging it down. Once it was off, he kissed his way up her body, up her calves and around her kneecaps, making her shiver; and then higher still, his hands squeezing the flesh of her thighs, right under her bottom while his lips drew closer and closer to her sex and her fingers grabbed fistfuls of satiny fabric.

But of course he didn't give her what she wanted. His lips followed the crease of her inner thigh, finding her hipbone and placing an open mouthed kiss there.

And then he just lay there, his face next to her sex, his fingers tracing lazy circles on very sensitive skin. She was tempted to grab him by the hair again and pull him exactly where she wanted him.

“You are maddening,” she said instead, her voice a mixture of arousal, annoyance and amusement.

"Let me enjoy the view Detective. I have only fantasized about this for _years_ ," he confessed with disarming honesty, his eyes burning into hers. Her fingers skated over his stubbled cheek. She bit the proverbial bullet.

"I have, too," she admitted, mustering all the courage she had left inside her.

He slithered slowly up to her, his body finally a solid, warm weight on her and kissed her again, slowly, sensually, driving her even wilder with desire. Her legs wrapped around him, her hips grinding against the firm muscles of his stomach, desperate for some friction.

He moaned, the sound obscene in the stillness of the penthouse, as he felt her heat against his skin.

"You are breathtaking," he said, rising to his knees, his hands back to the inside of her thighs.

"Show me," he asked, his eyes dark whirlpools of desire. "Please, show me," he begged again, his fingers barely touching her lips. 

She felt her cheeks heating up, desire and embarrassment warring inside her, until Lucifer brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the pad of each finger first, before drawing them slowly in his mouth, tongue swirling around playfully, sinfully.

Maybe he _was_ the Devil after all.

She obliged him with bated breath and tightly shut eyes. She didn't know whether she could handle his eyes right now.

Her wet fingers caressed softly her swollen flesh, from the hood of her clitoris to her opening and up again. Her eyes flew open when she felt his mouth on her; his lips and tongue licking and sucking her fingers, around her fingers and all Chloe could do was bite her lips and groan, unable to remember the last time she had felt so _good._

When she pushed her finger inside, ceressing softly her oversensitive flesh Lucifer focused on her clit, licking and sucking with fervent abandon. Every time his tongue licked a line along the inside of her wrist she trembled and he groaned- the sound sending delicious vibrations inside her.

When his wet fingers circled her nipples and then massaged her breasts she moaned- the first of the night and Lucifer's enthusiasm could not be mistaken.

She unraveled pretty fast after that. Once he realized her movements were getting faster, his lips latched onto her clit and he groaned, the sensation so luscious, so delicious that it shattered her.

She let out a long, drawn out moan but even that was unable to convey her pleasure; she felt like a supernova- a star at its brightest with the exception that she wasn’t dying.

If anything, she felt reborn **,** like another Venus emerging from the sea foam, a newborn star floating in the dark, just now learning what it means to _shine._

She was brought back to reality by Lucifer licking her finger clean and then climbing up her body like a panther.

Oh, she _wanted_ to be ravaged.

"You are delicious. You taste like the stars, like freedom and the birth of desire," he murmured and kissed her.

The way he spoke was unlike anything she knew and she loved the way it made her feel; unique and special, even if she wasn't. Not really.

_I bet you say things like this to every girl,_ she wanted to say; insecure, jealous and almost bitter.

"You are wearing too much," she said instead, determined to enjoy this night without her overthinking and angsty complications.

Her fingers made quick work of his belt, button and zipper of his slacks and pushed it down. With no underwear on, his erection sprang free and damn her if it wasn't the prettiest cock she had ever seen.

"Why am I not surprised by the lack of underwear?" she said with a teasing smile.

"They ruin the lines of the suit Detective!" he said in utter seriousness.

She pushed him down on the bed and got rid of his pants and fancy socks. Her hands ran up his thighs, cupping his balls while her lips ghosted over the length of his cock to place an open mouthed kiss at the head.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, his entire body tense. He pushed himself up and pulled her on his lap.

"Don't you want—“

He silenced her with a soft kiss.

"Darling if you do that now, I am afraid I’ll make a proper fool out of myself. Perhaps later if you still desire it.”

"Alright," she acquiesced, thinking about that _later_.

"There are condoms in the drawer. And... lube."

"Pick what you like," she said and watched him as he stretched on the bed to reach it. Something felt off as she looked at him but them her eyes landed on his ass.

It was a fine looking ass.

She couldn't help herself. She bit him.

"Ow," he exclaimed surprised. "You are _naughty_ ," he said outraged, delighted as he pushed her down. She watched him put on the condom and felt herself getting wetter at the sight of his fingers, long and beautiful wrapping around that pretty cock.

"What would you prefer?" he asked her awkwardly.

"What about you? What do _you_ prefer?"

He just stared at her and she was afraid that it had been a bad thing to say when suddenly he grabbed her face and pulled her in for a rough kiss.

"I want you. In any and every way I can have you."

"I’m here, aren't I?" she said, cradling his face. She let herself get lost in the warmth of his eyes, in the unvoiced emotions that were spilling out of their depths.

There were a lot of maybes dancing around in her mind, but now was not the time.

He pulled her on his lap to straddle him, kissing her, his hands busy on her breasts and then lower, slick with lube, teasing her folds. When he pushed a finger inside, she trembled, a pathetic whine leaving her lips.

"You are so deliciously wet and tight. Absolutely irresistible."

Her arms wrapped around him, fingers digging into the skin of his back while she rocked on the heel of his hand, her eyes closed, oblivious to the way Lucifer was looking at her- awestruck and reverent.

Her orgasm was sudden but no less blinding in its intensity; she held on to him, nails digging deeper, cheeks pressed together. She soothed her hands up and down his back, feeling a little bad, wanting to shower his skin with kisses.

Only then did the realization hit her.

Her fingers ran up and down again.

Smooth, unblemished skin.

Her mind was quick to offer mundane explanations that meant more lies.

Her gut tightened.

Moments rushed through her mind’s eyes, things she had dismissed and chose to forget - jagged puzzle pieces that made up an impossible picture. One that she could not quite fathom.

One that made her heart beat faster out of fear.

She felt his lips then, impossibly soft on her cheekbone.

She looked at him.

The dimples hidden under his artful stubble. The way his lips curled for her-a smile reserved just for her.

And his eyes; eyes dark, full of emotion. There was a simple truth in their darkness, one she craved for desperately.

Whoever he was, whatever he was, he was still Lucifer. Her partner, her friend.

And her truth was simple, too.

She was so in love with him.

And well, wings were better than horns, right?

She kissed him, her lips soft as feathers, trying to convey this newfound all-encompassing acceptance.

He laid her carefully on the bed, covering her with his body.

“Is this alright?” he asked hesitantly, his cock pushing slowly inside her. She felt the delicious stretch of muscles, that sweet pain, and reveled in it.

“Yes,” she breathed, wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer.

His thrusts were shallow in the beginning, giving her a chance to acclimate, and then deeper, still slow, hitting her in all the right places. Their clasped hands stretched above them and she could feel him on every inch of her body; she felt electrified, a bundle of pulsating pleasure.

She bit her lip, biting back another moan when Lucifer’s thumb pulled it free, running a soothing caress over it.

“No one to hear you here, Chloe. Just me. And I‘m starving for it,” he told her.

She kissed him, trying to convey through lips and tongue and teeth all that she was feeling.

And it was a lot. Years of wanting- wanting that was swallowed, buried under the ideal of responsible behaviour.

She was sick of it.

When he bit softly the spot where her neck met her shoulder, she shuddered and moaned, carefree for the first time in years.

“Bloody hell, you’ll be the death of me,” he breathed at the shell of her ear, his hips pumping faster. She moaned again.

“Are you close darling?” he asked, voice strained.

“Lucifer, I came twice I don’t—“

He cut her off with a kiss.

“You did not answer me,” he chastised her, biting softly her lower lip. She moaned again. He cursed again.

“Maybe?” she stuttered. “It’s been a while I-I’m not sure.”

He pulled out abruptly and sat up, pulling her into his lap.

“Is this okay?” he asked again.

“It’s more than okay,” she assured him as she sank onto him. She rode him slowly at first, finding a rhythm that made her breath stutter and more moans spill out of her mouth.

“You are breathtaking,” he said, his hand finding her clit. “I am utterly, completely spellbound.”

She moaned again at his ministrations, feeling her walls contract round him.

“Darling,” he breathed against her lips, “I don’t think I can hold off any longer,” he said voice trembling like the rest of his body, tone apologetic.

“Then, don’t. I want to see you fall apart because of me,” she said and moved her hips faster, ground deeper.

His hands dug into her waist, hard enough to leave bruises but she didn’t care-she was drank on him and on this thing that had taken life between them.

When Lucifer came, he did so with a long moan, a look of pained pleasure on his face; he was unreasonably beautiful, a creature out of this world but in this moment, hers alone.

She kissed him under his eyes, on the tip of his long, straight nose, on his lips. His hands tightened around her, eagerly accepting every affectionate touch **.**

He laid her on the bed again and slipped out, quickly getting rid of the condom.

He ran his hands over her body again and she stretched like a cat, playful, all soft smiles and eager flesh.

“You are incomparable,” he murmured, his fingers getting busy again.

“You don’t have to,” she said, words distorted by her moan.

“Trust me darling, this is a privilege,” he declared proudly and then his lips were busy too.

She came apart fast, too fast and he lapped at her eagerly, his moans making her thighs tighten and tremble further against the sides of his face. Only when he was certain her orgasm was all but spent he climbed up her body kissing here and there, making her shiver.

“Are you cold, love?” he worried, hands covering her skin.

“No… just blissfully exhausted I think,” she admitted. “I believe I find myself in debt,” she teased.

The smile on his face was not smug as she expected, but ridiculously pleased and playful.

“None of that Detective! The night is still young.”

“What would you ask of me?” she pressed, her mind whirling still with impossibilities.

“Can I tell you in the morning? You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

He seemed almost frightened and insecure, desperate for this small concession.

Couldn’t he see? Wasn’t it written just as clearly on her face?

This was by no means a concession, no; it was bestowal.

She wanted it to be a promise, too.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, hoping he would understand; that he would want to acknowledge the meaning behind her words.

He smiled and it was hers; and he looked so beautiful wearing her smile-unbearably so.

He fed her morsels of fruit, sweet and tangy, and licked their juice from her skin.

They kissed and kissed until her lips were swollen and her skin was sensitive from his stubble and only then did he move to other lips.

Their bodies tangled, skins almost fusing, no beginning or end- their desire a living, breathing thing between them, impossible to ignore any more.

She kissed the stars on his skin, the ridges of firm muscle and made him sing a litany of praises, interrupted only by her name on his lips- a blessing, a prayer and he the supplicant, begging for more.

She gave him all that he asked. She gave him everything.

Late into the night, or early in the morning, he held her in his arms, fingers soft on her lines of her face, in her hair. She was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, eyes closed and body languid, this sweet exhaustion pulling her under, but his voice kept her present.

“I feel like I have discovered religion again. Let me worship you Chloe,” he whispered on her cheekbone, lips impossibly soft, voice beseeching.

_Yes_ , she wanted to say but her tongue felt heavy in her mouth.

She wanted to worship him too. To love him but not as a God- an infallible, all knowing creature; she wanted to love him as a man, a person prone to bad decisions and mistakes but worthy of love and affection all the same.

She hummed instead, burrowing closer to him and felt his exhale in her hair. She felt an impossible warmth, inside out, and let herself be pulled into Morpheus’ arms, hopeful that the morning light would be kind to them both.


	2. Take An Angel By The Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning-after for the two lovers.  
> Can Chloe handle all these revelations all sobered-up?  
> Can Lucifer handle his feelings for her?  
> (I suck at summaries)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful comments!  
> So, you will recognize some lines from the show. I have a lot of mixed feelings about them😅 So, i really hope I've done them justice here.
> 
> (There *may* be another chapter of this in the future? Compliments to violent_ends for planting the seed!)
> 
> (A small disclaimer i forgot to put up! There is a phrase that is actually a lyric from a song by Florence and the Machine♥️)

When she did woke up to pale sunlight, she found herself cocooned in his embrace- arms wrapped loosely around her, limbs tangled and face buried in her hair.

It made her heart beat faster. Surely this did not happen with everyone?

She tried to disentangle herself, her bladder almost aching, but his hands tightened around her and he blinked blearily.

“Are you leaving?” he asked confused, disappointed.

“Bathroom,” she explained and kissed him on the nose before leaving.

She didn’t look different on the enormous mirror in his bathroom. But she felt different, off-kilter in a way.

All sobered up, reality tasted strange, alien.

If he had been telling the truth all along…

The idea of it all loomed above her, unknowable and potentially terrifying.

She thought of the questions brewing inside her; the fear that was so easy to take over and ruin everything and then the man on the bed, waiting for her.

She thought of herself; she hoped she was a good person- at least she tried to be. She didn’t think she could fall in love with someone… bad. Someone evil.

And she thought of him; of all the things she had labeled as eccentricities, of all the information that she had tried to fit in that so-called metaphor. Explanations misperceived as lies and pains she had dismissed.

But without a metaphor to cling to, who exactly was he?

An Angel, molded by _God_?

The biblical Devil?

And what did that even _mean_?

Chloe was not a religious person but if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that she trusted her judgment better than the words of men of the cloth.

Lucifer was not the source of all evil. Of that much she was certain.

And as important as _all this_ was, it all boiled down to one rather plain question.

What did _she_ want to do about it?

She could leave-make up an excuse to leave his house and then his life. Tuck this knowledge in the darkest recesses of her mind and pretend.

If nothing else, she was exceedingly good at _that_.

The mere thought of walking away though, made her heart clench painfully and her lungs run short of breath.

Maybe _this_ was the evilest thing he had done; he had burrowed so deep inside her heart that it was impossible to simply walk away.

She was too invested in this, in him.

She wiped away her tears.

Thankfully, among all the impossible notions that surrounded him, there was a simple truth she could hang on to.

Whoever Lucifer was, whatever being hid under his skin, she felt like she _knew_ him.

She _saw_ him; saw his goodness, his striving and his struggles.

And the love was already there. Not much she could do about it. And after last night she didn’t know how to go back to pretending.

She didn’t want to.

And as impossible, as incredulous it might have seemed to her just a few days before, this morning Chloe chose the simple truth.

Not the reasonable, the cautious thing to do.

Not merely surviving any more-constantly hungry for all those things she dreamt of.

She was ready to grab the bull by its horns.

Or, in her case, the angel by the wings?

She dragged her hands over her face, dumbfounded by the ridiculousness (and immense possibility) of her thoughts, and laughed weakly.

Mind made-up, she went back to him.

For a moment, she stood with her back against his fancy Sumerian wall (which, come to think of it, was probably authentic) and looked at him.

Her mind was more than happy to provide snippets of their shared night- heated words, labored breaths and kisses so sweet she could still feel the honey of his tongue on hers.

He was like the sun; bright, almost blinding, impossible to ignore. And she was unable to resist the call of his pull; this gravitational force drawing her closer and closer. Calling her home.

She lay behind him, lips kissing along the line of his shoulders. He hummed appreciatively still half-asleep, his hand coming to rest on her thigh.

Her fingers massaged his neck, her eyes tracing all those adorable freckles, and when a soft groan left his lips, she moved lower, satisfied.

Her thumbs pressed softly along the line of his spine, close to where the scars used to be and he shivered. Something moved, a ripple on his skin-the shift too fast to comprehend.

He turned around to face her, his eyes wide and panicked.

“Chloe,” he whispered, suddenly very awake, fear evident in his voice. “D-Did you..?” he tried to ask, his eyes flitting about her face, not quite able to settle on her eyes.

 _This is it_ , she thought.

This was their judgment day.

Her heart beat like a drum in her ears, almost drowning out her very thoughts. But she could be strong in the face of these revelations; for him, for them. She breathed deeply.

“Lucifer… you can tell me,” she implored softly; wanting, needing to hear it from him.

He got off the bed, movements fast and jerky, and put on his satiny robe.

She felt too naked all of a sudden.

“You didn’t ask me. About the scars.” His voice was almost accusing and he still refused to meet her eyes.

She pulled the sheet over her.

“I know. It took me a while to realize. I was, um, _distracted._ ”

“So? What do you make of their absence?” he challenged, defensive.

She waited for him to look at her but all he could do was pace back and forth at the foot of the bed, tense as hell.

Pun definitely intended.

“I was thinking that maybe there was no metaphor, after all,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “That I should have tested your blood. That I should have listened closer when you tried to tell me. Followed my instincts instead of reason.”

He stood still for a moment, eyes on the floor, thinking.

“You are still here though,” he said frowning, as if stating something incomprehensible.

“I am,” she agreed, wanting to go to him but knowing that it would not be well received right now.

“Are you… _afraid_?” He looked at her for the first time and it was obvious that the very thought nauseated him.

“Um, sort of? But not of _you_. I mean, I don’t think you would hurt me—“

“ _Chloe… I would never_ ,” he promised brokenly.

She felt the tell-tale burn behind her eyes.

“I believe you. It’s just… the implications of it… they are mind-boggling… A completely altered reality.”

“But you are _still_ here,” he repeated, confused.

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“Chloe I—“

“Love is not a switch Lucifer. I can’t just turn it off.”

“Love?” he questioned, horrified.

His expression, the way his lips shaped the word… It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Of all the things, all the impossibilities, the terrors she could conjure up from this scenario that she had found herself acting out, his reaction was the one that did it.

She was absolutely furious.

“Don’t act as if last night was just a fuck. Or as if you have no feelings for me,” she accused, standing up, unconcerned about her nakedness.

His eyes momentarily strayed from her face.

“I heard what you said last night _. I have found religion again._ ”

“I thought you were asleep,” he said, looking contrite.

Of _all_ the excuses!

“Do you want me to leave then?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Then what _do_ you want Lucifer? You keep asking everyone what they desire, but did you ever stop to ask _yourself_?” she asked exasperated.

He stared at her like a small child, lost and hurt.

She wanted to hold him. To be his comfort, his shelter.

She wanted to see him with _that_ smile-her smile-on his lips always.

She wanted and wanted and _wanted_ and she was sick and tired of always denying herself.

She wanted _him_ and everything could be damned.

Let the damn chips fall where they may.

She took a deep breath, felt tears pool in her tears.

“I want _you_ Lucifer. I want… I want to love you, flaws and all. Whoever, whatever you are… But you have to _let_ me,” she confessed, emotionally exhausted.

He just stood there, frozen, his expression indecipherable.

Maybe all this _was_ a terrible mistake. And the more the silence stretched, the more obvious it became.

She turned around, wiped her tears hastily and picked up her clothes. Her time here seemed to be up.

She walked past him, down the steps of his bedroom, her jeans and underwear in her hands, looking for her shirt. She felt more tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them away angrily. She would not fall apart. Not here, not now.

She was pulling on her underwear when his voice, loud and panicky, rang out in the quiet of the penthouse, scaring the crap out of her.

“Chloe!”

She turned around slowly to face him.

“I’m scared! Please, don’t go,” he begged, voice trembling. “I –I do care about you. _Of course I do_! Last night… last night was the best of _my_ life _._ And I’m much, _much_ older than I look.”

She froze, this reminder of her new reality a bit too much for a moment.

She took a deep breath, then another and another.

 _It’s still Lucifer_ , she reminded herself.

Lucifer with his ridiculously expensive suits, his swagger and witty banter.

Lucifer with his terrible past, his broken heart and all those insecurities that sometimes turned him into an oversized child.

Lucifer with the perfect coffees and lemon bars. For her.

Lucifer with the bullet necklace that she was too afraid to wear, because of all the things it meant to her.

She looked at him.

“You saw them, didn’t you?” he asked, gesturing to his back.

“I saw… something. But it disappeared too fast.”

He nodded, looking beyond sad.

“I once dreamt that you had horns,” she blurted out.

“I see…”His eyes hardened. “The stuff of nightmares. I am terribly sorry for any pain I may have caused,” he apologized formally, misunderstanding.

She felt the blush spread from her cheeks down to her chest.

He really had no idea.

“Don’t be. We were making out. You called them your _love handles_.”

He stared at her in shock, eyes comically wide at her admission.

“Detective! You _are_ naughty!” he exclaimed, his lips pulling into a small smile.

She smiled too, at the endearment, hope blooming inside her. Maybe they could weather this storm between them after all.

“May I… may I come closer?” he asked, hesitant.

She nodded. He moved slowly close to her.

“I never tried to hide the truth, but it suited me that you didn’t believe. I was certain you would disappear once you saw me for what I truly am.”

“And… what are you truly?”

“Chloe... I _am_ the Devil.” He was open and honest and there was a sadness in his eyes so old that seemed impossible to heal.

“No, you’re not. Not, to me.” There was disappointment on his face and he was ready to stop her, to intervene, to correct but she silenced him with her fingers on his lips.

“Please, let me explain. You have this idea about yourself…sometimes you speak as if you have done unforgivable things- and maybe you have. I don’t know! It’s all so big! I can’t quite grasp the idea. But Lucifer… that is not the man I have come to know. You, Lucifer Morningstar, are a good man.”

“Good?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Yes, good. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes… You are fair, unfailingly so… you are protective and kind. You are thoughtful and generous-even if you sometimes go about it the wrong way- and you are fun—“

He crashed into her, knocking the breath out of her, his hands soft on her skin and his lips softer.

“Do you really believe that? That I am… good?” he whispered, voice barely audible and trembling.

“Of course I do, Lucifer. I didn't fall in love with you because of _this_.” She gestured to his body. "Don't get me wrong, I _like_ it. But it would never have been enough for me. I want... _more_.”

“You deserve more. You deserve everything. And I can’t even be honest with you-not the way I want to,” he said close to tears. “But, you believe me? Even if I can’t show you… my other face?”

“I think so.”

She couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine at the thought of that. But now was not the time to worry about it.

“I wouldn’t say no to more concrete proof, though. Would… Would you show me?”

He took a long moment to decide; his eyes full of thoughts she wasn’t privy to.

“Alright. Okay. But people tend to be _affected_ by them. Proof of the Divine and all.”

“Okay.” She sat on the sofa. “I think I am ready.” She wasn’t.

“If you are frightened and want to leave, I won’t try to stop you.”

She nodded.

He stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Lucifer, just do it!” she said, feeling on edge.

“Fine! But you are making me nervous, staring like that,” he whispered, disgruntled. He mumbled something about performance anxiety and then said louder,

“There goes nothing.”

There was a soft whoosh and then suddenly two _wings_ materialized out of thin air.

She couldn’t help the soft exhale of surprise and awe.

They were large, each one larger than her, and brilliantly white. They emanated light and warmth and they were absolutely gorgeous.

Otherworldly.

Divine.

She felt slightly dizzy. Her partner had actual wings. Feathered appendages that he could use to _fly_.

“Chloe, are you alright?”

She focused on his eyes. He looked worried.

“It’s-it’s a lot to take in. But they are beautiful. Can I touch them?” she asked, even if she shouldn’t have, given his mood, but she was overwhelmingly curious.

He blinked, obviously not expecting that. He opened his mouth to speak several times, but nothing came out.

“You can say no Lucifer, it’s alright.”

Who knew what the proper etiquette was… for angels and their wings. 

Angels.

Wings.

How _was_ she so calm?

Perhaps the too many orgasms had messed with her head.

Her partner was an angel. And the Devil. Because the Devil was once an angel, right?

Oh, and she was in love with him.

“I don’t want to say no,” he hedged. “It’s just that… no one has touched them in a _really_ long time- definitely not with good intentions.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But Lucifer… do _you_ want me to touch them? Don’t think about what _I_ want.”

(Chloe marveled at herself and her ability to carry out a conversation about _angel wings_ relatively unaffected. And sane.)

He looked at her as if he was wondering what the best answer was, obviously torn between his own need and the need to please her.

How could she ever be frightened of him?

“Why don’t you just, um, put them away? And thank you for showing them to me.”

“Chloe I—“

She just smiled at him and squeezed his hand, and then with a shrug of his shoulders they were gone, like magic.

How the hell did _that_ work?

He sat next to her tentatively.

“So where does that leave us?” he asked in a small voice.

“Well, _us_ as in the Detective and her civilian consultant, or Chloe and Lucifer?”

“I didn’t think that either was going to be a possibility if you ever found out. Especially the second,” he said, eyes glued to his hands, his fingers nervously twisting his ring.

“I’ll ask you again then. What do you, Lucifer Morningstar, want?”

Their eyes locked. There was so much hope and fear there that it made her heart flutter in quick, painfully spasms.

“I want to be your partner. I want to be by your side and help you bring to justice all those miscreants, well _your_ kind of justice anyway. I think I’m good at it,” he smiled a little.

And then he looked at her like she was the sun, the moon and all the stars in the sky. Like she was the _only_ light in his life.

“I do want you. I do care about you. And I want to try, but… I am terrified that I will hurt you. And then I will lose everything.”

“Hurting the one you care about is a possibility in any relationship Lucifer. Sometimes it seems almost inevitable. The question is… do you want to take the chance? You have to decide this for yourself.”

She squeezed his hand and stood up, more than ready to put some clothes on, but he pulled her by her waist to him. He took both her hands in his and kissed the inside of her wrists.

“Chloe… Last night… last night for me… it was beyond compare.”

Her heart beat in her chest like the wings of a hummingbird-so fast she was afraid it would take flight.

“You make me feel things I thought were forever beyond my reach. You make me… hope.”

“And what do you hope for?”

“That someone as good as you could love the Devil.”

Her eyes stung his tears. She blinked letting them loose and kissed his knuckles.

“Oh, Lucifer! You don’t have to hope for that. It’s a given.”

“You said you want _more_.” He nodded to himself, eyes grave. “I want to give it to you. I want to try Chloe. I’ll- I’ll try to be good for you.”

“Lucifer, you are. _You already are_ ,” she insisted, caressing his face.

“May I kiss you?”

“You didn't ask for permission before,” she teased.

“I was... blindsided ...by my own desire,” he confessed, frowning. “I don’t think it has ever happened before.”

“A first? Wow. In that case then, you may.”

His hands framed her face while his lips kissed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks and finally her lips.

A kiss that was sweeter than heaven and hotter than hell; appropriate, she thought, for a being that carried both these worlds under his skin.

“You haven’t told me,” she whispered between kisses, “what you were going to ask of me.” Curiosity burned inside her and to be honest, she wanted to deliver her end of the bargain as well.

He pulled back a fraction so that he could look into her eyes. He rubbed his nose against hers and with unbearable tenderness he said,

“I would have asked for _more_.” His eyes shone with unshed tears, but they were happy, happier than she had ever seen them.

“More nights,” a kiss at the corner of her eye, “more mornings,” a kiss on her cheekbone, “more kisses,” a kiss at curve of her upper lip. “More of you, anything you would be willing to give me.”

It was easy now to quench his thirst, to satisfy this hunger.

“You can have anything you desire,” she told him. “I am yours,” she promised and kissed his perfectly carved lips, reveling in their softness, his taste, the scrape of his stubble.

“Chloe, there is still so much that I need to tell you. That you need to know.”

“Alright. But baby-steps Lucifer. Baby-steps. I believe I’ve fulfilled my quota of divine revelations for the day.”

He laughed, carefree and happy and kissed her again, long and sultry.

And what she wanted, she could now have.

She untied the sash of his robe, her hands pushing it off his shoulders, caressing the line of his shoulders and forearms.

Then, she pushed him back into the sofa.

He beamed at her, beyond excited.

“Is this the _renowned_ make-up sex?”

“That would imply that there had been arguing Lucifer,” she explained.

“Wasn’t there?” he asked perplexed.

“Um, not exactly. That was talking, sweetheart. Communicating. A bit intense maybe, but still not arguing.”

“Oh. It seems like I have much to learn. But I do love the _sweetheart_ business.” He said, gracing her with a crooked smile.

“You are sweet, no matter what you think. And good _. So good_ to me, Lucifer.”

His arms tightened around her and he started planting a series of small, wet kisses along the line of her neck. He bit her earlobe and licked at her lips, his cock wonderfully hard and thick between her legs.

“Oh G—“

His tongue stopped her in time, tangling with hers in a wild, slow tango.

“I got carried away, I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize love. Now, I have the most delightful way of stopping such utterances. I may overuse it if you are careless,” he warned with a smile and she laughed, pinching his cheeks like a cheeky boy.

He pushed her on the sofa, lying on top of her.

“So, from what I understand this will be a common occurrence from now on.” His thumb slipped under the lacy edge of her bra, circling her nipple. She whimpered.

“What will?” she asked, too far gone already to follow his incessant rambling.

“We, having all this sex, darling. It’s what… couples do, is it not?”

That small word made her feel warm all over.

“I’m afraid we’ll be stuck on talking about the sex instead of doing it,” she teased him, hands squeezing that fine, _fine_ ass.

“Ooh, you are such a horrible tease, Detective. Whatever will I do with you?”

“Oh, I am sure you’ll figure something out. In the meantime you could undress me and start getting busy again.”

“Bossy thing, aren’t you? I love it,” he enthused and followed her directions to a T.

See?

She knew he could be a good Devil!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter is from Sia's 'Take an angel by the wings'. It *spoke* to me.
> 
> Take an angel by the wings  
> Beg her now for anything  
> Beg her now for one more day  
> Take an angel by the wings  
> Time to tell her everything  
> Ask her for the strength to stay....
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Feels like we're dreaming, we're tripping and reeling/ just say that you belong to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are problems. Immortal ones.  
> There is smut. Explicit smut.  
> There are wings. Demanding wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, better late than never!
> 
> A special thanks to thepoisonofgod! A few kind words go a looong way!
> 
> This was supposed to be 3k of wingies smut but alas!
> 
> Instead you get a more detailed closure for this little fun AU.
> 
> Keep in mind that this divergence occures early in season 3...  
> So, some things will be different!

Chloe could now admit the whole sordid truth.

She had thought about sex with Lucifer. From the very beginning. Even dreamt about it. But she never did think that the actual deed would be so life changing.

A little more than two months later, she still has a hard time swallowing the truth.

Not about him, not that. That was easy enough when she realized that no matter what he was still the same, slightly insufferable, prissy man-child she had met from the very beginning.

The world has not changed but her perception of it has.

And all this never-ending onslaught of divine revelations has not helped things one bit.  
  
Lucifer seemed almost impatient to get everything out of his chest now that she knew. All those _lovely_ talks had taken place at the penthouse after a couple of drinks, _to blunt the edges_ as Lucifer always said. There, Chloe could yell and rant as much as her heart desired without actual witnesses, especially since Lucifer had installed a lock in the penthouse lift, after her continuous insistence.

Also, the fact that Lucifer made a deal with her every time, always requesting the same thing on his part- that she would not run off, made her heart swell and ache sweet.

There were two prevalent reactions.

The one was stunned, bewildered silence that usually demanded more drinks and a thorough Q&R session once she felt like it, while the other was self-righteous fury personified.

Those times she would fly around the penthouse, like some ancient goddess of wrath (his words not hers) swinging her words like swords, always cutting deeper than she meant. But she couldn't help herself; her anger was the only way to mask her fear, her uncertainty for everything that was being thrown in her life.

And Lucifer, sweet Lucifer was so limitlessly patient; he suffered through her tirades silently, as if any of this was his fault, and occasionally spent hours slumped against his bathroom door where she would lock herself.

Because she did promise him every time that she would not run away. So, his bathroom was the only viable option left.  
  
As she sits at her desk at the precinct, filling in the paperwork from their last case, she spares a furtive glance at her lieutenant, or rather the world's first murderer. She suppresses a whole body shiver. It's not that she doesn't believe Lucifer- there is no denying anything he has ever told her, not after flashing her with his wings.

It's just so _inconceivable._

However, after hearing everything that Lucifer had to tell her, some things started making more sense. Pierce thinks he’s so smooth about it, but Chloe has noticed all those long, calculating looks he gives her. Looks that according to Ella belong to a love-struck, stoic man, but Chloe knows better.

There is a reason alright behind his stares.

Apparently, she is the devil's kryptonite; her mere presence rendering his immortal, invincible body as vulnerable as any mortal's.

And according to Lucifer, Pierce is looking for a way to die. It turns out that thousands of years on Earth are not as fun as one might think. What a shocker.

~*~

“I’ve already explained to him that it's not something _you_ do that makes me vulnerable. But he is being annoyingly obtuse.”

“But you did say that I make you vulnerable,” she parrots confused.

“I should have explained that better,” he says guiltily and she knows at once that he was filtering before.

“Out with it please.”

“You already know this Detective”, not _Chloe_ now, back to detective. He does that when he needs some detachment or is just plain scared. "I’ve told you that I feel I can be vulnerable around you. I meant that quite literally. Not sure I understand why, but _I_ am the one manifesting this aberration.”

“Physically,” she states. He nods. “But you also _feel_ vulnerable around me.”

He nods again.

“Is it possible that your body is manifesting your emotions?”

He stares at her as if she has just cut the Gordian tie. The simplest solution to an indecipherable problem.

“So you think my body is actualizing my emotions?”

“That would explain the absence of your devil face. And... the return of your wings.”

They rarely ever mention his wings after that morning, his feelings about them still too contradictory.

He narrows his eyes but she continues on unconcerned.

“Maybe you felt like you were better? Maybe deep down you too believed that you were good?”

“That is preposterous! There is no changing the Devil darling,” he says wistfully and Chloe has learnt by now that she has to pick her battles. And having him admit that change to himself is not a battle she can win right now.

_Baby steps Chloe. Baby steps._

~*~

Her phone vibrates, pulling her back to the present.

_Everything alright darling? Is your day as boring as you had planned it to be? This is a reminder from your loving Devil to please be very careful. I should be able to wrap this nonsense up today._

If anyone had told her that Lucifer was going to be the mother hen in this relationship she would have laughed in their faces.

But joke's on her. He is so protective of her that it's both heartwarming and annoying as hell.

Pun intended.

She sends him a photo of the files on her desk and then a message,

_I miss your insufferable ass too much._

Then she returns rather unwillingly to her paperwork. She doesn't know what Pierce might have in store for her, if anything at all really. But the thought is always there, a constant nagging at the back of her mind. There are moments when she regrets refusing Lucifer's suggestion of pulling some strings and making him disappear.

She still thinks though that keeping him close is the best thing they can do for now.

Even if his very presence creeps her out and she wants to shake Ella out of her Pierce-induced coma of dreaming about Pecker babies.

She suppresses another shudder and keeps filling each section meticulously.

She startles when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

"Decker," Pierce says in acknowledgement.

"Lieutenant," she says and swivels on her chair to face him, forcing him to retract his hand.

"I need your help. The main suspect of Morales' case showed up but John's still at home with a broken hand."

"Why don't you send some unis to pick him up, Sir?"

Under different circumstances she would have jumped at the opportunity to impress her boss. But she really, _really_ , doesn’t want to be alone with him. At the same time she can’t afford making him suspicious of her behavior.

"I need someone experienced with good instincts Decker. Are you coming?"

 _No_ , she wants to say. _I don't trust you._

"Yes," she replies instead and grabs her jacket. In the elevator she texts Lucifer, keeping him in the loop, just as she has promised.

_Pierce asked me to help him bring in a suspect. Couldn't get out of it. I’ll be careful._

The answer is instantaneous.

_That bloody tosser. This is no coincidence Detective. Send me the address._

She does so at once. Because frankly? Pierce creeps the shit out her and in case he tries something she wants Lucifer to know her whereabouts.

_Please be careful Chloe._

She locks the screen and pushes the phone into her jacket pocket, pretending to be oblivious to the way he just keeps staring at her.

Even if it’s making her feel more and more like prey being tirelessly observed by something far bigger and worse than her.

Chloe both loves and hates being right.

Well, this time she hates it.

They are met with gunshots the moment they arrive at the suspect's house. The first bullet grazes her left side, just under her ribs, while the second hits Pierce (who very gallantly jumps in front of her) in the chest. The third flies by her head as she kneels next to him, her hands pressing on the point of entry, forgetting for a moment the fact that he is supposed to be immortal.

Somehow she manages to call this in, to ask for help as they lie on the asphalt, losing touch with time as she focuses on stopping his bleeding.

She can hear sirens approaching but it’s not what offers her relief. It’s the sound of screeching tires that puts a teary smile on her face.

He moves like a whirlwind of dark expensive wool, eyes frantic, mouth stretched in a grim line. She is slumped against her car, one of her hands pressing on Pierce's wound and the other pressed against her own side. When he sees her blood soaked shirt, the all-consuming terror in his eyes shakes her to her very core.

"I’m fine," she says, voice a little weak. "But he's unconscious."

He kneels next to her and with trembling hands pulls back her shirt

"I’m okay. It's superficial. It just bled a lot."

"That bloody arsehole,” he says and for a moment his eyes burn crimson with the heat of his anger. Then he looks in her eyes and his anger melts, fear and concern taking over. She lets go of her side and cups his cheek, smearing her blood all over him.

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

She makes to pull away but he keeps her bloody hand there.

"I’m okay. Really, I am."

"An inch to the right and I- I. _Bloody hell_ ," he curses and a few tears escape the corners of his eyes.

The paramedics push through but Lucifer doesn’t move an inch from her side.

He rides with her to the hospital, the Corvette forgotten, his eyes glued to her, the fear clinging to him like a second skin.

And she stares at him, at his blood smeared cheek and the storm brewing in his eyes, knowing that this is his biggest fear.

Her mortality.

It’s not like she’s not afraid. She is _terrified_. But it’s a risk she has learnt to live with given her job.

But he hasn’t.

And quite frankly Chloe is not certain that he can.  
  
At the hospital he stares daggers at the surgeon doing her stitches- the feeling obviously mutual since Lucifer's vehement refusal to leave her side.

Dan is there, waiting for them once they step out of the ER.

"Pierce died in the OR. But they managed to resuscitate him. He lost too much blood but the doctors think he will make it."

Lucifer says nothing, his expression fierce.

Dan hands him the keys of the Corvette.

"Chloe I think I should stay with you tonight. Help out a bit, you know?"

"That won't be necessary Daniel. I will spend the night with Chloe."

"You? And do _what_ Lucifer? Down whiskey shots with her?"

"I’d love that Lucifer," she says before things escalate and kisses his cheek. "I'll be fine Dan. But I do want you to take Trixie because the pain medication is strong and I don't know in what state I’ll be in the morning.”

He agrees easily, still confused over Lucifer’s behavior but thankfully he says nothing more on the matter.  
  
Lucifer takes them home. He helps her undress and lies with her in her bed, his body almost covering her own. They should probably talk about his fears. But she is exhausted and woozy from the painkillers, not the best of states for that kind of conversation.

So instead she burrows into him, letting his warmth, his heartbeat and his smell surround her, becoming her lullaby.

She falls into a deep, satisfying slumber that melts away all the tension and aches from her body. She has the impression of dreams, of a warm, honey like sensation of love and safeness encompassing her, of dark eyes and smiling lips.

She wakes up under Lucifer's watchful gaze, eyes sad but so warm, and she kisses him, thankful for this imperfect moment, for every moment she is lucky enough to share with him.

"I love you," she whispers against his lips instead of _good morning_.

"Still feeling out of it, darling?" he says, his mouth set in a smile. But his eyes stay sad, no happy crinkles around them.

"No, I’m fine. I am actually hungry."

"The Devil is fit to satisfy all kinds of hunger! Yearning for something specific?"

"Actually, yes, I am," she says and her hands glide over his skin, down strong pectorals and toned abdomen muscles, and lower, her fingers following the lines of that V leading to that very pretty cock.

He snatches her fingers just before they reach their destination, bringing them to his lips to soften the rejection. Which is an absolute first for him.

"Back to being naughty I see?" he says, his lips quirking a bit.

She caresses his stubbled cheek and he presses his face into her touch.

"I can't help myself around you," she says, trying to make him smile, too.

"Now, now Detective. Don't go lying to the Devil."

He kisses her nose and stands up, pulling on his pants.

"Stay and catch a wink while I prepare some brekky for us, alright love?"

He pecks her on the lips and leaves, closing the door behind him. She does go back to sleep, but her dream is a mess of blood and nerves and she startles awake when she feels Lucifer's hand on her cheek.

"Hello there. Nightmare, darling?"

There is no point in lying to him. She nods, still a bit shaken.

"It's weird because I slept so soundly during the night. And I dreamt... I think I dreamt of you. I don't remember what exactly but it was soothing and I felt… safe.”

"Are you trying to guilt trip me into sleeping with you every night? Darling, you need only ask. Now sit up so I can get something in that pretty mouth."

She does and he feeds her bite after bite of delicious fluffy pancakes, soaked in maple syrup with bits of crispy bacon. There is no coffee to her great disappointment, but there is freshly squeezed orange juice and quartered strawberries. How, she has no idea as she is absolutely certain that she had neither of those in her fridge.

He looks tired in a way he rarely does, like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders.

"Won't you eat some?" she asks, wanting to dip her fingers into one of the pools of syrup and tempt him some.

“I’m not hungry darling.”

Unfortunately she has discovered the one thing that can put a damper on the devil's mood.

"I'm doing just fine you know. It doesn't even hurt today," she lies easily.

"No, you’re not. You could have died yesterday. And I...”

“Lucifer this wasn't your fault in any way.”

“On the contrary Detective! This was my fault in every single way. If it hadn't been for me Cain would never have taken such a dangerous interest in you. And if it hadn't been for my bloody pride I would have arrived before you and none of this would have happened!”

His voice shakes and rumbles and grinds, its timber and texture much different from what she is used to. It takes her a moment, as stunned as she is, to realize that her bed and the walls are vibrating along with his voice.  
She swallows her nerves and speaks her mind.

"Yes and you would have been hurt instead! Probably worse too, knowing how reckless you are.”

“Better me than you Chloe,” he says, voice quiet but somehow more eerie.

“You’re just as mortal as I am when you are close to me. If you think after everything you’ve told me that I would just sit back and allow you to hurt yourself for my sake again...”

“ _Of course_ I would,” he thunders again. “You are-you are so fragile Chloe, I-I _can't bear_ the thought of losing you.”

“I may be fragile but I’m also stubborn. I’m not going anywhere. And quit berating yourself about arriving sooner. Given where you were that would have been impossible.”

“I could have flown there. I _should_ have flown there. But alas, my prideful arse would not accept that as an option.”

_Oh_. Right. He does have wings. And that is what wings do right?

“That would have been too risky. Too many possible witnesses,” she says off the top of her head to ease his mind.

“Hah! Like I care about anyone else,” he says, pacing in her small bedroom, his fingers leaving his hair in disarray.

"No, Chloe don't," he protests when she climbs out of her bed. She is sore and she can feel the pull of the torn muscles but it's not like she can't even walk.  
She takes his face in her hands.

_"Stop it_. Just stop with all these what ifs. What's done is done. Yes, it could have been worse but it's not. The only thing we need to do now is decide how to handle Pierce. That self-sacrifice was too calculated.”

He closes his eyes and inhales sharply through the nose, jaw clenched tight.

"Don't even utter his name Chloe. I am bloody furious. No! _Fuck that_. I am _far_ beyond furious.”

He pulls her hands away with shaking fingers and walks to the other side of the room, his back to her.

"He wilfully endangered your life for his own selfish reasons, knowing full well that there is no game reset for you. I want to _punish_ him. I _want_ to hurt him," he says turning around to face her.

Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of him. His eyes burn with a scarlet flame, lit from within, blazing with the urgency of his desire.

"I want to rip him limb for limb and then put him back together just so I can do it again. I want to watch him _suffer_."

Chloe just stares, mesmerized and a little scared. Lucifer for all his claims of his past life has never made her feel frightened before.

Weirded out? Yes.

But scared of him? Never.

And he has told her. Told her what his other self looks like. _Monstrous detective_. _A mangled horrifying monster with eyes as red as his scorched skin._

But being told and witnessing it for herself are two very different things. And this is the first time she has come face to face with _this_ truth and its flaming eyes.

Her boyfriend, Satan, the man she loves was the King of Hell. _Scratch that_. Is the King of Hell. That doesn't seem like something that wears off easily.  
  
In his presence this very moment she finally understands the true meaning of awe.

This creature who can wield immense power and yet chooses to contain all that so that he can be in her presence.

He who has reduced grown men to whimpering, pitiful messes and overseen the punishment of countless guilty souls.  
  
He is hers.  
  
How could she ever mistake him for a man? With his crimson eyes and stormy presence, he is most certainly _other_.

One of God's creations, a son shaped in the light of creation and forged in the fires of hell.

Both terrifying and magnificent.  
  
And he is unaware. Unaware that his eyes are no longer her beloved brown. Unaware that his anger is bringing his more devilish self back.  
  
"I’ve never felt this kind of burning hatred for a mortal man ever before Chloe."

His eyes turn incandescent at his admission and she unlocks her body and walks slowly to him, as if she might be the one to spook _him_ away.  
**  
** She wraps her arms around his bare torso and kisses him over his heart.

"How do you even want to be close to me after what I said?" he asks, genuinely confused. His eyes, even sadder now, dim slowly to his lovely brown.

"I get it Lucifer. I do. I would be angry too. And there have been times when I wanted to hurt certain people. But I chose not to. I know you won't let your emotions get the better of you. And we'll work it out together, like we've done so far. Okay?"  
  
He nods and wraps his arms around her too, a little too tight given her injury, but she can't bear to ask him to stop.  
  
He stays with her, watching mindless TV and holds her when she falls back to sleep in his arms. He only leaves when Dan and Trixie come to see her, using the opportunity to clean himself up at the penthouse.  
  
Pierce wakes up the next day, on his way to a full recovery according to his doctors.

Dan and Ella keep her in the loop as she is stuck at home and in the midst of everything she finally comes clean about her and Lucifer.

She kinda has to, since Ella pops up unannounced one morning just in time to watch Lucifer cook French toast in his satiny jammies. She takes to the news with a giddiness fit for a child, hugging Lucifer and making him promise for details.

Now, as if she doesn’t already have her plate full, she also has to teach the Devil about boundaries and the idea of sharing _too much information_.

Dan is another thing entirely. At first he stares disbelievingly at her, as if waiting for the punchline to a joke that never comes. Then he scowls at the both of them until Trixie pulls him out the door.

And Trixie… it is unnerving how often her daughter, her own flesh and blood, surprises her.

“I know, silly,” Trixie said as she looked at her mother with a cheeky smile. “A while ago I had a nightmare and came up to your room and I saw you all cuddled up…Aww mom you were so cute!”

Chloe’s cheeks flush crimson, hoping that certain parts of Lucifer’s anatomy had been covered _that_ night.

“And why didn’t you say anything monkey?”

“I figured you were going to tell me when you were ready,” Trixie said with a shrug and that was the end of it.

So that really leaves Chloe with two problems.

Both of them immortal.

Lucifer has been incredibly sweet but also enveloped by an ever present veil of fury and grief since the shooting. Which is stupid because she most certainly is not dead.

She had hoped that their little talk would have helped him some but the shadows in his eyes have not dissipated.

She has to shake him out of his funk.

Because she needs him so they can deal with problem No2.

Marcus Pierce or Cain has proven to be a rather huge pain in her proverbial ass. And taking into account Lucifer’s vulnerability and the fact that she has no idea how far Cain is willing to go…

He is a danger to them both.

“We need to talk,” she tells him two nights before she returns back to work. She is a little exasperated (and impressed) by his evasion tactics but they need to come to an agreement over how to deal with Pierce. And they have both promised.

Together.

“What are we going to do about him?”

“You know what _I_ want to do,” he says sullenly.

“Do you Lucifer? Be honest.”

“I _am_ honest Chloe. I have _always_ been honest. And yes, I do. Well, a part of me definitely wants to.”

“I still don’t think that he wanted me harmed Lucifer. I was just… collateral damage.”

“He did not care what would become of you so long as you served your supposed purpose. Do not make excuses for him. Trust me he hardly stopped after that first murder Detective.”

“And he is being punished for it, is he not?”

Lucifer glares at her for only a moment and then looks away pulling his flask out of jacket.

“I have two possible solutions to offer but I need to speak with him first, see what he _truly_ desires, before we can decide on the course of action.”

“I am listening.”

“I can either pull those strings and get him as far away from you as possible-under constant surveillance of course- or I can ask a certain DA to make a case against him.”

“Charlotte? What kind of case?”

“I have reason to believe that he is the Sinnerman.”

“The same who had you kidnapped?”

“Exactly Detective. But, you needn’t worry about it. I _will_ take care of it this time.”

“Still, we make the decision together?”

“I have promised, haven’t I?”

She climbs into his lap and kisses him. It’s meant to be small, a lips on lips only kiss, but she has missed him so much during these days of forced celibacy _, I’d never forgive myself if I somehow hurt you darling_ , that it escalates quickly.

Her fingers push into his hair while his, although initially go to her waist, quickly relocate to her neck.

“I’ve missed you,” she whines between kisses.

“As have I, darling,” he says, eyes star-struck and full of want. He runs his thumb over her bottom lip and sighs. He leans close, lips at the shell of her ear and whispers,

“There, in the sulk of her bottom lip, I find myself talking about a heaven that only exists when she is looking at me…”

Be it his voice, the words, his fingers following the lines of her collarbones or just _him_ , she shivers from both desire and anticipation.

“You sweet talker,” she says and pulls his hair a little.

He laughs and with a final chaste kiss on her cheek he promises,

“Soon my love. Soon.”

~*~

Her heart flutters inside its cage as the elevator rides up to the penthouse. This excitement and anticipation is almost worse than what she had felt that first night, before she had decided to give in.

_Best decision ever._

When she walks in, Lucifer is on the balcony enjoying his smoke and the view, but he quickly strides inside, his movements exuding purpose like never before.

“Welcome home, darling,” he says, taking her bag from her shoulder, and seals his lips to hers.

There is an urgency to his kisses, a quiet desperation that she now realizes will never leave him. She wants to fill up all the empty spaces inside him, to mend all the broken pieces. But most of all she wants him to know that she is here for him always.  
  
So, she melts into his kiss, into him, hands and lips soft, hoping that all she has to give him is enough to satiate this hunger.

Both his and hers.

"I ...need...you," he whimpers between kisses. He so rarely uses this word that it hurts to hear it fall from his lips.

"Anything you want," she promises easily, her heart beating to a wild rhythm.

Their discarded clothes mingle on his marble floor like another pair of lovers as he guides them to his bed and she sighs happily when she finally feels his skin on hers.

His mouth drags on her skin, lips and tongue and teeth and she can feel his marks blooming and welcomes them; tender is how he always makes her feel, in every way possible.

She pulls him back to her for a soft, grounding kiss and pushes him on the silky sheets. Their hands intertwine and looking into his eyes, dark, desperate, hungry, she asks him,

"What do you desire?"

He licks a line from her clavicle to her jaw and chuckles low and dark.

"Oh Chloe, what is there that I _don't_ desire?"

His thumb runs over her lips and she bites it softly, running her tongue over the pad, and she watches mesmerized as his eyes flash crimson fleetingly.

"I want... I want my cock between those luscious lips. I want your sweet cunt on my mouth, your nectar on my tongue. I want to fill you up in any way possible, to saturate all your senses," he whispers as he nips at the sensitive skin behind her ear.

"As you desire," she promises and starts kissing a line down his body. She kisses the space over his heart and runs her tongue down his ribs while her short nails scrape over his pectorals and abdomen. His muscles tremble and twitch deliciously under her ministrations. She places open mouthed kisses along the lines of that V and cherishes the whimpers and praises that leave his lips.

She licks the head of his cock and sucks it in her mouth, enjoying the way he tastes, salt and musk and him.

Before she can set up a rhythm, he sits up and pulls her into a deep kiss, tongues twisting around each other.

"I am starving here, darling," he says and lifts her hips to pull the lower half of her body to him. They settle on their sides, Lucifer's head buried between her thighs, his hands caressing any patch of skin he can access, while Chloe pumps him slowly, her mouth wrapped around his length and her tongue massaging all those spots that drive him wild.

And it's hard, _oh it's so hard_ to concentrate on him when his lips and tongue are rendering her incapable of any sort of coherent thought. His lips suck and lick sweetly at her labia and her clit while his thumb teases her entrance making her whimper in anticipation.

And when he does push his thumb inside her, she keens and trembles at the added sensation, pumping and sucking him with renewed fervor.

She cups his balls and lets her fingers skate over the sensitive skin below. He groans loudly and starts moving his hips, fucking her mouth with sharp, quick thrusts. She focuses on him, using all the tricks she has learnt in this time they have shared together and all too soon, with a hard squeeze on her ass cheek and a long moan being her only warnings, Lucifer comes and Chloe hums around him, her lips still sucking, enjoying his drawn out pleasure and curses. When he hisses, the sensation too intense, she pulls away and lays her head on his thigh, placing small kisses there.

He is still panting-she can feel his short exhales on her skin- and she smiles, happy and pleased with herself as there was a time when the idea of pleasuring Lucifer-the one with the endless array of lovers and unimaginable experience- was daunting. He looks at her from between her legs, eyes bright and slightly dazed, with a goofy smile on his face.

"Looks like I beat you," she says with a smile.

"Oh Detective, there are no losers in our bed," he says and his smile turns sharp and wicked.

It's a smile full of promises of carnal pleasure.

And now that she has no task at hand to concentrate on, her arousal dominates all her senses; her nipples ache, desperate for any sort of stimulation while her clit throbs painfully, a deep ache that demands to be sated.

He disentangles himself from her legs and crawls up her body, barely touching her anywhere when she is desperate for his touch.

Oh, he can be a right bastard when he wants.

He kisses her at the corner of her mouth, a small, chaste kiss that leaves her wanting and even hungrier.

"Now... where was I when I was so magnificently interrupted?" he asks, a rhetorical question obviously as he loses no time burying his face in her folds again.

He kisses and licks her swollen flesh with soft, barely there touches that feel absolutely delicious but still _not_ enough. His hands move to her neglected breasts, lavishing them with equally soft caresses, and Chloe is reduced once more to a wanton mess, writhing on silk sheets.

Her hips start moving on their own volition, blindly seeking her much desired climax, and her hands sink in his hair, more encouraging than guiding, as Lucifer's mouth grows more insistent and follows the motions of her body.

She makes weak, needy sounds that make Lucifer groan against her sensitive flesh, his fingers tightening their hold on her thighs.

When she finally feels his finger pushing slowly inside her, she moans, grateful, her hips following the deep, sinuous motion of his finger. His lips latch on to her clit, more demanding than before and Chloe arches her hips helplessly up to him, chasing this sensation that has been building inside her.

She keens and moans again and again, almost _there_ , so when she suddenly feels another finger teasing her, massaging between her cheeks, she tumbles spectacularly over the edge, her tightly shut eyes full of stars, her moans obscene, even here, in this space that always pulses with their pleasure.

Lucifer's kisses turn softer, more languid, helping her ride out the waves of her orgasm and her body melts back into the bed, blissfully limp and spent. He kisses up her body, lingering at the raised, puckered line of flesh under her ribs, kissing it reverently, before he moves higher and higher to finally reach her lips for a deep, heart melting kiss.

"You drive me mad with desire every single time. The _sounds_ you make, your _taste_ ," he groans into her neck, pushing his erection against her belly. "I could exist _only_ to please you."

"Now that would be unnecessarily cruel," she says with a smile while he studies her face, his eyes unusually serious.

"It's never been like this, not for me. I _know_ carnality and desire, but this? This intense, boundless yearning to be _one_ with you, to _burrow_ into you... This belongs to you completely."

“Just this?” she teases. “What about the rest of you?”

“Oh darling, I banned possession hundreds of years ago but here I am finding myself thoroughly possessed. Albeit, a very different kind of possession, _far_ more lovely and dangerous, but… to answer your question… yes. Utterly, unequivocally _yours_.”

She looks at him with eyes that hold oceans in their gaze, but were she like him they would be burning with the fire of her love for him.

They would be a blaze, a fiery scarlet topped with orange crowns-a queen fit for a king.

A glorious and terrifying thing, this is what her love is.

But she is a mere mortal, _from dust to dust_ , and her eyes cannot mirror the fervor of her emotion. They mirror the sea, its unknowable depths and the secrets in between but not anymore, not for him.

Her lips crash into his, their teeth knocking together and she pours all her emotion into it. She shows him with lips and tongue and teeth and breath that she belongs to him too.

She shows him but she _has_ to tell him as well. So long she had kept her emotions, her wants shriveled, ignored, pressed against themselves, made insignificant, inconsequential, things easily dismissed and forgotten.

But they never were, hard as she tried to make them so.

Lately though, all those secrets spill free first chance they get, hoping to soothe, to mend, to heal.

“I’m yours, too, Lucifer. Equally possessed,” she whispers fervently, knowing that words are important too.

Their lips meet again, this time with purpose. They twist and turn in each other’s arms, lips and fingers composing their own masterpieces on skin.

She finds herself on his lap, his erection pressed between their bodies while he kisses her with wild abandon, stoking this ever-present flame into a near inferno. Unable to resist any longer, she lifts her hips and slowly lowers herself onto him.

They swallow each other's moans and slowly, so very slowly Chloe starts to move, his hands curling around her ass, squeezing, guiding. One of her hands curls around his shoulder and back, caressing and scratching the sensitive skin there. With the other she holds his stubbled cheek, her nose pressed to his, willing him to understand, to see this torrent of emotions barely contained in her eyes; an overflowing river ready to swallow up anything in its way.

“Chloe,” he whispers and it hurts how raw his voice is.

"I’m here," she whispers against his lips and he moans, pulling her body flush to his, their lines melting into each other.

Without warning, his wings appear out of thin air, a sudden source of light in the darkness of his bedroom.

She can't help her initial reaction- she jolts, her body instinctively pulling back. His hand on her back soothes her while he apologizes.

"Forgive me darling. I did not mean to frighten you."

"They startled me, that's all. Don't worry."

But she does. She worries. He almost never lets his wings out, his feelings about them too convoluted still. So, she is compelled to ask.

"Lucifer…are _you_ okay baby?"

She pushes his sweat damp curls out of his face and waits.

"They hurt," he confesses quietly, eyes suddenly wet; and the way his voice curls around the word, hesitant and frightened, is a stab to her heart.

She stills her movements, both her hands on his face, guiding his eyes to hers, looking for answers.

"Why baby? Why do they hurt?"

Her eyes turn quickly to his wings, looking for any signs of injury, but they are as pristine as ever.

He kisses her again, soft, sweet, apologetic. He presses his forehead to hers, unable to meet her eyes, almost ashamed, and whispers,

"They want you. Want to be near you. To touch you. It's a yearning like nothing I’ve ever felt. A sweet ache, but an ache nonetheless."

Relief floods her at once. And well, truth be told, satisfaction as well.

"Well, I should hope so," she says with a smile in her voice, making him pull back to look at her.

"They are yours, aren't they? If the rest of you wants me, doesn’t it make sense that they do, too?"

She can see the doubt, the skepticism in his eyes. He may have decided to keep them but he still doesn't see them as part of him.

"I don't mind," she says against his lips, her hips grinding into his. "Anything that is yours, I _want_ it."

Maybe if she loves him enough for the both of them, he will come to love himself as well. Because for all his show and annoying self-confidence, he still doesn’t consider himself worthy of love.

He looks at her with those dark eyes, eyes that could hold entire galaxies in their fathomless depths, his gaze unnervingly soft and awestruck.

He captures her lips in a searing kiss, his pull so intense, so unyielding she feels like she is being pulled in a black hole; she surrenders to it, revels in this raw force that pulses between them.

When she feels them on her back it's a feeling unlike anything she's ever known; softer than anything, their texture is simply indescribable. They leave blazing trails on her back like multitudinous fiery tongues, their touch vibrating with the sheer force of their want, of _his_ want.

It's heaven. It's hell. It's too much and yet somehow not nearly enough. She moans into his mouth, her hands pushing into the hair at the back of his neck. His hands pull her closer and as his wings rest on her body, she can feel the lines of their bones molding to her back, can feel the different lengths of his feathers pulsating on her skin, as if breathing.

“Is this… alright?” he asks between kisses.

“ _Yes_. It’s more than alright. It feels… _amazing_ ,” she says, for lack of better word, her synapses busy with the storm of sensations he is causing.

“And for you?”

He looks at her, his eyes overflowing with this thing he won’t name, this thing that his body is all too eager to demonstrate.

“It’s everything,” he whispers. “It’s _more_. More than I ever thought I could have.”

And then their bodies start moving together and for once even Lucifer has run out of words, his mouth frozen in a rugged exhale, his whimpers and groans the only sounds leaving him.

As their movements grow faster, his wings grow bolder, curling around her body, feathers fluttering against her ribs, the underside of her breasts; and the places his feathers don’t touch, his hands are more than happy to lavish with attention.

It’s all too much and she’s _so_ close, she can already taste stars in her mouth but she needs more.

She means to grab his shoulders, to get more leverage so she can grind against him harder, but she’s surrounded by feathers from all sides and her fingers unintentionally sink into them. He moans, the sound surprising both of them, emboldening Chloe who so far was too hesitant to touch them.

She runs her fingers down the length of his feathers, feelings the skin and bones underneath. Lucifer keens, surprised, and his hands pull her almost violently against him, grinding into her again and again.

She moans helplessly, gratefully, when all these sensations finally reach a culmination, feathers and hands and lips taking her to heights never before experienced.

She does indeed see stars.

Well, one star; him.

Mindlessly she grabs onto the base of his wings and kisses him pouring the mettle of what she has become, of what he has made her into him. His entire body shakes under the force of his orgasm, his wings tightly wrapped around her, his hands holding a little too tight- a willing prisoner in his embrace.

When she feels somewhat lucid again, she pulls her hands back to his face, cradling his cheeks, kissing his sweaty face while he is still struggling to get his breathing under control.

His feathers pulse on her skin, in a way returning the caresses and she smiles, knowing that despite being but a speck of stardust in the endless expanse of galaxies that is his life, at the same time she is the spark that sets his very bones alight, that makes him shine the brightest; his eyes are all the proof she needs.

“That was unexpected,” he says, voice vacillating between an apology and humor.

Chloe laughs and kisses him again.

“You can surprise me like that any time you want.”

They fall back into the bed and she finds herself encased in a warm, feathery cocoon. She takes in the warm boyish smile on his face, his unruly curls and thinks of the angel, back when the cosmos was fresh and new.

“No wonder the stars are so striking,” she murmurs in the small space between them. “You’ve taught them to burn with the fire that lives in your heart.”

He looks at her, out of words and smart comebacks.

“Like you have done with me in a way. I may be a miracle, but you are mine. You have breathed your fire into me and I have never felt more alive. More happy. I ‘ve never shone brighter.”

“I am afraid it’s the other way around Detective. Your eyes… they have been my clear skies and your heart my very own North Star, unmoving, constant, guiding me home…” He closes his eyes as if in pain. “But Chloe… _I am terrified_. I cannot bear the thought of losing you. What good is all that I am when I _can’t_ protect _the one_ person that…”

He chokes on his words and she can’t stand it, can’t stand this needless suffering. She opens her mouth to speak but his lips cover hers, a kiss so soft and sweet that makes her teeth ache. With their faces still pressed together he whispers,

“ _I love you_. I love you with the heat of a million suns and even that seems too little… _I love you_ and the idea of having to endure my eternity _without_ you is excruciating. I exist in a constant state of anguish and torture. _I cannot be without you Chloe, I can’t._ ”

Their tears mingle on their skin, salty confessions that sting, and she pushes closer wanting to be one with him. Her heart- that fluttering little bird locked away in its mortal cage- aches to be close to his, to inhabit the same space as his own.

What a mismatch of lovers they make, a fallen angel and a broken woman.

But if there _is_ such a thing as soul mates, she is certain she has found hers.

Perhaps, somewhere beyond time, they had once shared the same body, their souls as one, until a cruel God split them in half, condemning them to spend their lives looking for that other half.

Well, Chloe is done looking.

“Lucifer I can’t make any promises but this; I love you, all of you, every part I know and all those I have yet to see. I’ll always fight for you, for us.

Even when my mortal life comes to end, whether that’s tomorrow or in many years to come, I will _still_ fight for you. I will _still_ be looking for you. And that won’t change, no matter where or what I am…”

“Chloe, I would do _anything_ for you. Go anywhere for you. Never doubt that.”

And he already has. She knows about his involuntarily trips to Hell. About his brother and the impossible choice he was forced to make.

She knows these are not empty promises. But it’s not grand sacrifices she is after.

“There is only one thing I want. Be with me and let me love you. And let go of your fear Lucifer. We can’t always control what happens. But we can be there for each other.”

“Together… come what may.”

“Exactly. I’ll watch your back if you watch mine _partner_.”

“Oh, I do like the sound of that, Detective,” he says, smile back in place, and kisses her.

And she _knows._

She knows it’s _him_ by that slither, that tickle in her throat.

By the way her heart is always trying to make her way to him.

So yes, maybe the future is scary but she is not afraid.

Because no matter what she will always find her way back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There, in the sulk of her bottom lip, I find myself talking about a heaven that only exists when she is looking at me"  
> Excerpt from the brilliant "Take me to church" by Azra T.  
> (haven't read it? Please do!)
> 
> Title from Cat Pierce's "You belong to me"  
> (haven't listened to it? Please, please do.)

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the story is from the lovely song by Muse 'Undisclosed Desires of Your Heart'
> 
> You trick your lovers  
> That you're wicked and divine  
> You may be a sinner  
> But your innocence is mine  
> Please me  
> Show me how it's done  
> Tease me  
> You are the one  
> I want to reconcile the violence in your heart  
> I want to recognize your beauty’s not just a mask  
> I want to exorcise the demons from your past  
> I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires of your heart

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [thepoisonofgod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepoisonofgod/pseuds/thepoisonofgod) Log in to view. 




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